


I Will Chase Away Your Nightmares

by Kawaiicoyote



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I have a lot of feels for Peter okay, Jackson? Who's Jackson?, Kind of fluffy, Lydia is having none of your shit Derek, Peter is a terrified puppy, Pre-Relationship, Soul Bond, oops... there is no Jackson in this one, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:31:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/pseuds/Kawaiicoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia wakes in the dead of night, knowing something isn't right. Something is wrong with Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Chase Away Your Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Lydia/Peter fic and I like the way it turned out. It's kind of my apology fic to geegollywiz13 for literally killing everyone off in my last fic. oops.
> 
> It's kind of my headcanon that since Lydia resurrected Peter that they have some kind of bond my it be soul/psychic/etc. It just formed a deep bond between them.

Lydia jolts away with a startled cry.

She bolts upright in bed, eyes wide and disoriented as she takes in the dark room around her, the soft sheets clutched to her heaving chest.

Something is not right.

She sits in the middle of her bed, looking around the room, trying to steady her breath and takes everything into account. Her windows are still shut, the curtains drawn tightly together, but she can still make out the flashes of lightning and hear the sharp staccato of rain against the windowpane. The laptop on her desk has gone idle, a generic screensaver giving off a soft illumination showing a neat and tidy desk with her school books piled to the side.

Nothing is out of place, but something is not right. She can feel it with how her heart races and how her scalp feels tight and tingles with awareness.

_Peter_

The thought flashes in the back of her mind and is gone an instant later but somehow she knows that’s the problem. Something is wrong with Peter.

Lydia flings the covers off her and slings her legs over the side of the bed. She glances at her nightstand and in the dimness she can just make out the time. 2:33 A.M. –time be damned- She huffs and pushes herself up from the bed and starts to grab clothes, not caring if they match for once.

She’s ready and down the stairs in three minutes flat. There isn’t a lick of makeup on her face. Her sleep tangled hair is pulled back carelessly with a simple elastic band and she’s wearing the first pair of shoes she could find which happen to be a pair of well-worn purple flip-flops that she likes to wear around the house when nobody else is around, despite the rain.

She knows that she would never go out in daylight looking the way she does. She’s not all that shallow anymore, but still likes to be well put together.

But in that moment, Lydia knows there’s a sense of urgency and panic that can’t quite be quelled. Not until she sees Peter, that much she’s sure.

With the intense rain Lydia forces herself to obey the speed limit, going under it in fact when the rain and wind pick up and leave her squinting to see the road. It frustrates her to no end, but she knows that getting herself killed won’t help anyone.

The rain is coming down in sheets by the time she pulls up to the Hale property. Scaffolds line the sides of the house, renovation vastly underway but not quite finished yet. From the outside the house looks calm and asleep, but something is subconsciously urging her inside. Like a constant buzz that won’t go away.

She’s barely switched off the ignition good before she’s darting out of the car not even bothering to take the keys with her, a rolling boom of thunder drowning out the slam of the car door.

Her feet and the cuffs of her jeans are instantly soaked and muddied, trekking through the yard, they squelch uncomfortably and leave a trail behind her on the stairs and through the front door that she slams open, not even bothering to knock on first. She has no time for pleasantries like knocking.

She heads straight for the stairs, hauling herself up them two at a time, breathless by the time she makes it to the landing and is greeted by four pairs of eyes. Three bright gold and one deep angry red.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Derek snaps at her, chest puffed out and tense, displaying his alpha dominance broodiness to her. She snorts and keeps walking, pushes through the group of betas, and tries to make her way to Peter’s room.

Derek’s sudden vice like grip on her wrist forces her feet to still. She turns and glares up at him, knowing she looks like a wild half drown hot mess.

 “I’m going to see Peter.” Lydia hisses with such venom in her voice that the three big bad wolfy betas flinch back. Derek growls in her face.

“He won’t let anyone near him.” Boyd supplies, his voice calm and deep and gentle.

Lydia makes a confused face. It’s Isaac who steps up, though Erica has her arms tightly around his waist and struggles to peer over his shoulder to glare at Lydia, as if to say “ _if you’re mean to my pup I will murder you_ ”.

“He’s having a night terror.” Isaac says sheepishly, his pale blue eyes looking so haunted, like he knows firsthand exactly what Peter is going through.

Lydia turns back to Derek and swiftly yanks her wrist out of his loosened grasp. “I’m going to see Peter now.” It’s not a request, it’s a statement. She stands at her full height and tilts her chin up; fully aware she’s challenging the alpha.

He growls but steps back and grants her access to the closed door they’d all been gathered around.

When the door closes behind her it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the nonexistent light of the room. With the drapes cracked open she can just make Peter out on his bed with the vivid lightning that streaks across the night sky.

She’s been drawn here by Peter, she knows that. But now, in his room only a few feet away from him, she hesitates. Her mind brings forth every bad memory of him. Of being chased down on the field, of the red eyed wolf, of him toying with her mind and making her feel like she’d lost her sanity.

A distressed whimper interrupts her thoughts and her feet start moving on their own. She kicks off her muddy flip-flops and climbs onto the massive bed and sits against the headboard. Beside her Peter looks so lost and small in the luxurious bed. With her eyes better adjusted, Lydia can make Peter out clearer now. His hair is disheveled, longer now from the passing months, and matted with sweat against his forehead. She notices that he’s twisted and tangled in the bed sheets, like he’s been tossing to escape from something to no avail. His face is pinched and his chest is heaving. The site of him makes her frown. It makes her briefly remember the boy who gave her the tiny blue flower and made her grin.

Carefully she reaches out and maneuvers Peter until his head is resting on her lap. Instantly he turns and wraps his arms around her legs and burrows closer to her, a pained whine echoing from him.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Lydia murmurs quietly as she cards her fingers through his damp hair. He’s sweaty but his skin is ice cold. “I’m here now.”

Peter relaxes a bit, but not completely, his face still pulled tight. He begins to mumble in his sleep and she strains to hear what he’s saying and wonders vaguely if the other wolves on other side of the door can make out what he’s saying.

“They’re burning… we’re burning….” Meets her ears and she freezes briefly, but then continues to pet his hair down to his bare shoulder and his back. It’s a long stroke, giving him as much physical contact as she can with their current position.

“You’re okay, Peter.” She whispers to him, hoping that he can hear her even though he still sleeps. His grip on her legs tightens and when he turns his face against her, she can feel the warm tears begin to soak through the denim of her jeans.

“I can’t get out…. We’re burning…. Trapped… I can’t get them out…” Peter continues to mutter in broken intervals, his voice hoarse and thick with tears, his whole body shivering.

Lydia continues to calmly pet him and whisper gentle words that she doesn’t even know if he can hear.

After a while Peter stops shivering, his breathing evens out, his body and face relaxes and he even starts to lightly snore.

Lydia continues to sit there, finding she doesn’t want to leave. That she wants to stay to make sure he’s okay. Not long after she nods off, still petting Peter until her hand drops away when sleep consumes her.

She slowly blinks her eyes open and finds a sleepy face right next to her. She doesn’t pull away and Peter doesn’t move. They lay, breathing each other’s air, the early morning sun bathing them in a soft golden light.

“Thank you.” Peter murmurs to her quietly. Lydia gives him a sleepy smile and moves closer to the warmth he’s now radiating, a stark contrast to the ice cold clamminess he was only a few short hours ago.

His arms envelope her and she tucks her head against his chest, his chin resting atop her head. Lydia sighs and closes her eyes again and lets herself be lulled back to sleep by the lullaby that Peter’s heart gently plays against her ear.

She knows that when they’re both fully awake she’ll have to ask why she knew he needed her. She knows she’ll have to ask herself why she feels so safe in his arms. But for now, she can’t be bothered. Knowing that Peter is safe beside her is enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like always, comments and kudos give me life. I'm like Tinkerbell in that aspect!


End file.
